A very French Incident.
--A late French journal relates the following well invented story, which, it will be seen, is French all over
While
Mons,
Godard was fitting an immense balloon in the
Champ de Mars, he amused the spectators by sending up the small figure of a man, the perfect semblance of M. thiers without spectacles.
The little man being filed with gas, rose majestically into the air, and was soon lost to view among the clouds.
His adventures, which became known the next day, were curious.
Thanks to a strong and favorable gain, which impelled him on his course, the little balloon man arrived the same afternoon in the sight of a fine country house in the neighborhood of Blevro.
It was near the hour of dinner, and the lady of the mansion, who naturally thought herself perfectly safe, was occupied in the mysteries of her
It was a warm day, and she had opened one of the windows which looked out upon the park, and was safe from any prying eyes.
While tranquilly engaged, by the assistance of correct lacing, in reducing her waist to a size and shape that would reflect credit on her husband's taste, she was suddenly startled by a blast of wind, followed by a strange noise; and immediately the casement was thrown upon, and our little balloon man entered her chamber The lady utters a cry of terror and throws a shawl over her shoulders.
The little man driven by the wind, throws himself upon the unhappy woman, who, screaming louder than ever, pushes him off, and he conceals himself under the bed.
Just as the wife, in a supplicating voice, says to this novel
Don Juan, "Ah,
Monsieur, go away, or you will ruin me!" the husband furiously rushed in, crying, "Ah, the wretch, I have him now!" and goes in search of his sword to run him through the body.
The wife, more dead than alive, reiterates, in the midst of sobs, "Fly, fly,
Monsieur and save me the sight of a dreadful tragedy!"
The husband arrives, armed to the teeth, followed by the whole household, who seek to mollify his anger.
While two of his friends hold the husband, a third, stooping down, perceives our little friend, who, for good cause, utters not a word and catching him by the leg draws him forth from his concealment — when, to!
Monsieur Balton no longer held down by the raises himself out, and rises to the celling, to the immense amusement of the spectators while the poor jealous husband away, sword and all, brutality ashamed of his causeless wrath.
